


Cherry

by Naemi



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fic, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never a good idea to let Delilah in on a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry

 

“I can't help but wonder,” Delilah said, casting a glance in Zeke's direction. He was queuing for their second round of coffee and sweets. “What on earth might have caused the change? I mean, one day he is the I-don't-give-a-damn loner we all know, and the next day, bam, he's chipper and friends with everyone and . . . he's _buying_. Twice in a row, for christsakes.” She shook her head at Casey's casual shrug, and pointed at him with her spoon. Little drops of milk froth dripped down onto her knuckles; she licked them away before she went on. “Don't tell me you have no idea. I insist you tell me the truth.”

Casey rolled his eyes and grinned. “Del,” he started, his voice cheerful. “I swear to God, there is nothing going on.”

“Fuck you, Case.” She eyed him suspiciously, but the boy seemed unimpressed. He took another sip of his caramel cappuccino, smiled his boyish smile and refused to add anything else. Delilah sighed.

“Gimme a hint at least,” she tried begging.

“I can't. There's none.”

“Caaaa-seeeeyyy. Come on, please.”

He narrowed his eyes, then he bent forward and told her in his most conspiratorial voice: “He's just having a good day. Considered that much?”

Delilah slapped his arm and growled. “Zeke Tyler is _not_ just having a good day. _Most definitely_ not. Unless he's had a great—oh my God!” Her eyes widened with sudden amusement. “Casey? Case, babydoll, tell me it is not what I think it is. Oh my, is it?”

“How am I supposed to know what you think?”

“Ohhh you.” She cast another glance over her shoulder. Zeke was already on his way back through the crowded café. “Quick. Tell me—did the two of you . . . ?” She wiggled her eyebrows. Casey's blush gave the answer; Delilah squealed with excitement and clapped her hands. “Good God! He's popped your cherry!”

“Shhhh!”

“Has he?”

“Yes, goddammit. He has. Happy now?”

“Ooooh, Casey! I knew he wouldn't resist forever! Congrats, I guess.”

“I'm warning you, it's top-fucking-secret.”

Zeke returned just in time to overhear Casey's last words. He put the tray down on the table, slid on the corner bench beside the boy and started handing out their orders. “What secrets are you sharing?”

“Your—“ Delilah started, but was cut off by Casey kicking her below the table. She flinched and gave a little growl. “Ouch. Thanks, pal. That hurt.”

“My what?” Zeke inquired, looking from one to the other. “What's going on?”

“We were talking, umm . . . ”

“ . . . favorite types of sweets,” Delilah jumped in, fighting back a giggle. “And Casey told me about the fantastic _cherry cake_ he's had these days. Wasn't it _fantastic_ , dear?”

“Yeah, it was . . . delicious.”

“Cherry cake?” Zeke frowned.

Delilah and Casey nodded in unison, the latter blushing, the first seemingly nonchalant.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, I took it you made it?”

“What are you—Case, what is she _talking_ about?”

“Comfort food.” Where that had come from was beyond Casey, and he blushed even more. His eyes shot arrows of wrath across the table.

“Exactly. Casey said that the recipe for this very _treat_ was top secret, but it definitely qualified as comfort . . . food.”

“Comfort food,” Zeke repeated slowly. “Are you nuts, Delilah? Do you need help? Like, seriously, if your meds ain't right for you, I might have just the right stuff in store.“

“I could have sworn the two of you shared that cake. Casey, didn't you just say—“

“Del? You must be mistaken. I said it was _my_ comfort food, in general, but I couldn't tell whether Zeke would choose to say the same.”

“Would you?” Delilah addressed Zeke with a perfect sunshine-smile.

He shrugged, looking confused. “I don't know. Cherry cake sounds fine, I guess.”

“Too damn bad.”

“What now?”

“We're _all_ out of cherry cake.”

Delilah would have to die. Now.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **FFFC** , Week 8: Comfort Food.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful Moit, who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> _Feedback is love._


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